


Love Prize

by Chaotic_Dawn



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:09:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3259397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaotic_Dawn/pseuds/Chaotic_Dawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his parents died in an Elven raid, to which he miraculously survived, Zexion was adopted by the ruler of Northern Territory. Life became something of a pleasant droll. Or at least it did before Zexion stumbled across the forbidden – albeit invisible – line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Prize

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely loved this idea (if that wasn't obvious). Although I think I changed and mussed it around at least a dozen times. ;n; I wanted it to be perfect. Lol Plus, I'm starting to really like this pairing. Ahhhh... stubborn men, until next time~
> 
> This is for my dear bb [Mis-Kitty](mis-kitty.tumblr.com) ([Mis--Kitty](www.mis--kitty.deviantart.com)) with much, much love <33 I'll never _not_ write for you!

The smell of nature is comforting and makes him inhale deep, wanting to simply soak it all in. He loves more than anything to sit and read and study, but being trapped in the corner of a room for days can drive anyone made. However, since the the scuffle at the border at the Western Territory he's been kept inside more than usual.   
  
Not that it's unusual. Since he can remember, he's always heard of humans and elves not getting along. In fact, that's why he's lived with the ruler of the Northern Territory – Ansem the Wise. When he was little there was fighting that neared too close to their town. Fire erupted everywhere and before he knew it, he was no longer in his bed and instead lying out in the street before his home. The one that burned down with his parents inside.   
  
Not long after, Ansem adopted him and taught him everything he knew. Save for ruling that is. He's to start that training soon despite Ansem having an eldest son to take up the mantel. He hardly ever sees the man, considering he's constantly in a lab or traveling between Territories. In fact, he can scarcely remember that last time he saw the man. To which he wasn't greeted with respect but rather a quick tongue laced with malice.  
  
He sighs to himself as he turns a corner on the makeshift path between the trees. The bushes are lush with berries and flowers while the birds sit up in the trees, weaving a delicate tune that echoes around him. He stops beside a bush heavy with blueberries and kneels down. Setting his basket on the ground, he tilts his head to the side to peak between them.   
  
The long, steel-blue bangs fall away from the right side of his face as he peers around the bottoms of the bushes. He reaches into the crevice filled with thorns and leaves – searching for only the best herb that burrows itself beneath these plants. His brown trousers tighten around his legs as he drops to his knees, trying to stretch his arm further into the bush.   
  
Finally, his finger graze a plant that's as soft as velvet yet as strong as iron. Gently he plucks it up from the ground and brings it out from the small leafy cavern. Dirt falls from the roots as he opens the handmade basket. He wraps it in a damp cloth and tucks it into the corner, proud of being able to find it since they're running out.   
  
He was lucky to have convinced Ansem to allow him to search for the herbs they need to make medicine. For he knows exactly where they'll be better than any on the medical team. He simply had to promise to stay far from the border and keep a knife on him at all time in case the elves didn't head the same warning. Although he believes his fellow citizens to be far more dangerous than any elf. He finds it hard to believe that a creature so beautiful could be more dangerous than man himself.   
  
Piercing dark blue eyes peer deeper into the hole between the bushes. There's a possibility there's more around this same area and as he notes what the scene before him looks like, he stands. He wipes his hands on the black trench coat fanning out about him. The hood attached to the back sways slightly as he grabs the basket and hoists it up to settle on his arm.   
  
Moving further into the tussles of bushes about the large evergreen trees, he gets lost in collection. By the time a light sheen of sweat gathers and he has to wipe at his brow, he's almost filled the basket. Proud of his accomplishment, he's sure this will last them a while.   
  
“What are you doing, _human_?”  
  
He turns around at the deep, rumbling voice and backs up a few steps. A quick glance over his shoulder tells him that he has nowhere to run. Right behind him is nothing but bushes and two large trees that twine together. It's not until his eyes meet the man before him that his one visible eye widens.   
  
The man – no – the elf before him is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He's tall and broad, probably a warrior from what he can tell. His skin is pale as the moon, yet licked gently by the sun's rays. Amber eyes glare at him above the lips set into a fine line. Cerulean hair falls about his shoulders, down to his mid-back even, and fans up and back away from his face. The only thing that distracts from the unmistakeable beauty is the x-shaped scar resting between his eyes and over the bridge of his nose.  
  
Although he dresses different than the elves he has seen. Brown knee-high boots cling tightly over deep green pants. A belt hangs diagonally over his hips and from it, the young scholar can see various daggers and short swords. The top he wears only reaches just past his chest and has long, billowing sleeves. It's a pale green at the edges and the rest is a myrtle green. Beneath it is tight, light brown shirt that extends over the lip of his pants.  
  
He almost finds it comical to see this elf with light blue hair dressed in such muted browns and greens. He can see him in such other vibrant or deep colors far from that of the ones he wears. Nonetheless, he gazes back with all of his fear bottled inside and kept far away from his features.  
  
“I'm gathering herbs.”  
  
“Gather on _your_ side of the line or I'll have your head, human.”  
  
“Haa... My name is Zexion, not human. And besides, I'm not on your...” A quick sweep of his eyes has Zexion wanting to back pedal. Apparently he had gotten lost in his task and ended up far from where he had started. On a closer inspection he can see that things are much richer in every aspect on the elves side of he border. That damned invisible line. Hoping to distract from the slip, Zexion brings his arms close to his side.   
  
Just in case the elf attacks, he can at least draw out the hidden blade on his belt. “I'm sorry for the inconvenience but I was merely looking for plants to use in making medicines. If it's no trouble, I'll just be leaving then.”  
  
But the elf blocks his path with an outstretched arm. That's when it hits Zexion – he let his name slip. Everyone knows about the young boy the ruler of the north adopted. Of how he cares and pampers the boy. Even the elves; evident from all of the focused attacks they pull. Or so Ansem tells him.  
  
“Be quiet.”  
  
Zexion can merely stare at the dangerous beauty before him. For once he doesn't know what to do. Doesn't know what to say. And certainly doesn't know how to get out of this. He's never actually met an elf before to know much more than what he reads or hears about. Then again, surely they have similar mannerisms to humans.  
  
“Do you have a problem?”   
  
The tone masked with malice draws Zexion's attention away from his thoughts and makes him realize he had been staring. He lets his thoughts turn to words and roll off of his tongue with ease. “You'd be more appealing if you'd smile.”  
  
“And you'd be more appealing if you stayed on your side of the land.”  
  
Zexion narrows his eyes, “It was an accident.”  
  
The elf draws his arm back and makes a move for one of his many weapons. Zexion knows he only has two choices. He can plead and beg for his life or distract the elf and run. Just as swift as he can be, Zexion draws forth the hidden dagger and holds it out toward the elf. “Now if you don't mind, I'll be leaving.”  
  
The silence settles between them; even the birds seem to have flown away from the two. Zexion watches with baited breath as Saïx lets a daring smirk curl the corner of his mouth. “Cocky human.” He moves his hand away from his weapons and gives a curt shake of his head. The movement makes the earrings jingle – the first time Zexion actually notices them. “Do you think you can fight me?”  
  
“I don't need to.”  
  
Once those words leave Zexion's lips, the elf is on the move. He's faster than Zexion can ever dream of. In one sweeping motion he has Zexion's dagger knocked out of his hand and has him pushed up against the tree. Both of Zexion's wrists are clasp with one of the elf's, held high above his head. To prevent any kicking or other such struggling, he positions himself between Zexion's legs. The basket on the ground lay toppled over, lid bent open with the herbs peaking out while the dagger is lost in the bushes behind them.  
  
“I don't care how you got here. The only thing that matters is you are and it's forbidden.”  
  
“So you'll kill me and be done with it then?”  
  
The elf stares, the blunt statement taking him back. It's the first emotion that Zexion has managed to surface and it intrigues him just as much as the lack of shown fear fascinates the elf. Most humans run from elves on the attack if they do not have skill in fighting. Zexion merely stares up at his attacker, straight into those impenetrable golden orbs.  
  
“Zexion...” the elf lets the name roll of his tongue with ease. “Your keeper is Ansem the Wise.”  
  
Zexion nods, albeit a little hesitantly. It's always a gamble what someone will do at the mention of his adoptive father's name. This particular elf, however, glares down at him. Something flashes in the elf's eyes, a particular flash that happens to be the last thing Zexion sees before black suddenly clogs his vision and everything gets lost in the void of unconsciousness.  
  


**(_)(_)(_)**

  
A headache pulses behind Zexion's eyes before he can even think to open them. Tentatively he opens his eyes and is greeted, thankfully, by a soft light streaming from the lantern on the other side of the room. Everything around him is softer – much more so than what he's used to. The ceiling above him is a pale green that's almost white and immediately to his right he can look out over the large space. Straight across he sees the thin, gossamer drapes over a small window.   
  
The room itself is different than what Zexion expects as he wakes up. It's sparsely decorated and has a few necessary pieces of furniture; a table near the window, a dresser, a elongated mirror beside it. There's only two doors; one to the left, one to the right. Zexion slowly sits up as the realization slams into him like a ton of bricks.   
  
This is _not_ his room.   
  
Memories flood back to him like the rushing of a river. Although he doesn't have but a second to dwell on it. Not as the sheet falls away from his body and onto his lap, allowing the chill of the air to meet his skin. Zexion slowly looks down to see that he's missing not only his coat, but his shirt as well. Taking a deep breath, he tries not to focus on the fact that he's as nude as a newborn baby in a bed that's not his own.   
  
“Good morning.”  
  
Zexion's gaze snaps over to the door as the elf from before strides in. He shuts the door behind him and nears the bed. Trying to be forceful, Zexion glares at him. “Where am I?”  
  
“The loft in the Northern Territory, what you would call a castle.”  
  
He doesn't let this bother him, especially as the elf's eyes take him all in. It sends a chill up his spine, one that he doesn't know how to interpret. After all, to have such a beautiful creature look at him with such an assessing gaze – well it would make anyone's heart leap.   
  
“Return my clothes.”  
  
“No.”   
  
“Do you expect me to walk around naked?”  
  
The elf crosses his arms. “You won't be leaving this room. Therefore it doesn't matter.” Zexion glares at him at that fact. “You're the luckiest hostage we've had yet.”  
  
“I doubt I'll be here long enough to enjoy it. Thank you for your hospitality, anyway.”  
  
The elf turns his back to Zexion. “My Lord is in talks with your Ansem the Wise. If all goes well, you'll never leave and we'll have peace.”  
  
Fury rages up through Zexion's veins. If anything, he refuses to be some trinket that's stolen from the losers of war. Before he even realizes what he's doing, Zexion has the sheets falling to the side as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed. His bare feet smack hard against the cold, slate ground as he lurches for the elf.   
  
It doesn't matter how adequate his skills are, his enemy is far greater in every aspect. He knows full well as he goes to attack that he's being manipulated – skillfully at that. The elf spins around with skilled precision and sweeps Zexion up off his feet. The next thing Zexion knows is that he's on his back with his legs bent over the lip of the bed. The elf is atop him, pinning his wrists parallel to his head. He's rendered immobile in under a few seconds just as before.   
  
The challenge makes Zexion's blood run hot. His equal has bested him once more. Even so, the elf keeps the emotions far from the reaches of his expression. The only thing Zexion can see in the elf's eyes is loneliness. A cold, brutal emotion that has all strength zapped from Zexion's will.   
  
The elf scoffs. “I applaud you for being so bold despite being naked. Perhaps if you had used your brain you would have been able to surprise me.”  
  
Zexion lets the ferocity drain from his being. “What do I call you?” The elf raises a brow, obviously taken aback by the sudden change. “Your name you dolt. You have one don't you?”  
  
“Saïx.”   
  
Once he's says so, he's pulling away from Zexion and righting himself. He moves straight for the door until Zexion bothers to call out. “Where are you going?”  
  
“To get your clothes, unless you don't want them.”  
  
Zexion can't help it nor stop it. The red that flushes his skin can't be quelled. He can only grab at the blanket that had fallen to the floor and wind it haphazardly around his waist. All the while, Saïx is walking out; shutting and locking the door behind him.   
  
To say he's intrigued is an understatement. Part of Zexion hopes that he does stay. After all, this is a lot simpler than his days training to be Ansem's successor; something he doesn't want to begin with. Besides, Saïx is for greater entertainment than he's ever found. The enigma that is the elf has Zexion wanting to delve deeper into that psyche of his. Which is why, staying or not, he'll take this time to it's full advantage.   
  
Not that he'll make it easy on Saïx. Oh no, that would ruin the experiment.  
  


**(_)(_)(_)**

  
Zexion has made it a point over the past few days to be as difficult and stubborn as possible. Saïx comes to him at least three times a day in which he brings a tray of delicacy. One that would normally have Zexion drooling. But instead he keeps a mask of displeasure and picks at the food. Naturally, once Saïx leaves he eats as much as he can handle. To which Xion, a maid, hurries in sometime later to gather the tray.   
  
Each time Saïx would leave he'd grumble, frustrated with his human captive. And never once giving any hints to the status of Zexion possibly going home or not. Which is why Zexion doesn't do anything different as the lock comes undone and the door opens; Saïx entering with a wooden tray just like any other day before.   
  
Zexion turns toward Saïx as he enters, partly swiveling in his seat before the table. He finds himself sitting here often and writes throughout the day, calculating possible new remedies and other such things. To which he plans to take the papers back home and research these theories.  
  
He turns away from Saïx and continues dragging the quill across the paper. That is, until Saïx sets the tray atop his work. He glares up at the tall elf, “Do you mind?”  
  
Saïx says nothing and Zexion can't do anything to see past the calm exterior. He sweeps his gaze over the cup of wine and bowl of soup with a piece of bread on the side. Honestly, it looks delicious. But he'll be damned if he lets Saïx know it.   
  
“I'm not hungry, so if you don't mind moving it...” The look in those golden eyes tells Zexion he won't be complying any time soon. Sighing, Zexion retires the feather and reaches for the tray. Saïx immediately reaches down and grabs his hand. Zexion tries to pull it free, “Let me go.”  
  
“It's time for lunch.”  
  
“I said I wasn't hungry. Besides, what does it matter to you if I eat or not?”  
  
Something flashes in Saïx's eyes and Zexion isn't sure how to decode it. Those strong fingers release his hand, allowing him to continue making a move for the tray. But Saïx is isn't done yet. He watches intently as Zexion picks the tray up and moves it off of the paper. As he does, Saïx grabs the goblet and takes a sip of wine.   
  
To which Zexion doesn't pay any mind. Or rather, until Saïx grabs at his shoulder with one hand and his chin with the other. He does the only thing he can think of and goes to protest, to scold Saïx, but merely falls into the trap. Saïx presses their lips together and tightens his hold, forcing Zexion to swallow it all.   
  
The second he loosens his grip, Zexion is shoving him away with every ounce of his strength. He wipes at his mouth and glares at Saïx, although he does do well at keeping the red from his cheeks. “Just because I'm here doesn't mean you have the right to treat me like some pet or plaything. I would never treat you like that if the roles were reversesd.”  
  
Saïx surges forward, covering the distance between them in a simple stride of one, maybe two steps. He reaches out and grabs at Zexion's chin once more, forcing the young man to look up at him. “You might not, but the rest of your kind treat us worse.” Saïx's thumb runs over Zexion's bottom lip as he lowers his head, their noses almost touching. “Besides. You'll be whatever I want you to be. And right now I want you to eat.”  
  
Snapping his hand away, Saïx turns on his heel and heads straight for the door. It shuts with a loud thud and the definite click of the lock falling into place. Zexion can only stare after him, unable to wrap his brain around what just happened. He can't deny the fact that elves are treated with malicious by his fellow humans – some are crueler than a wild beast.   
  
Zexion takes a deep breath and slumps back into the chair. He picks up the quill once more as well as the bread on the tray. As he begins to nibble on it, he tries to finish writing out his theory for a new medicine. Of course it's not easy with Saïx's words floating about his head. It's one thing to be told that he'll be what someone wants. It's another to feel okay with it.  
  


**(_)(_)(_)**

  
The door opens several hours later and Zexion already can tell it's not Saïx from the way the door creaks open. The young, female elf is as petite and cute as a pixie would be. From her shortly cropped ebony hair to her pale skin and bright sapphire eyes. Even dressed in robes of light green and brownish-red, she's a pretty girl. Although she's rather shy and reserved from the many times she comes in to retrieve the platters of food Saïx brings him. Not that Zexion minds, it simply makes the interaction easier.   
  
She moves over to where the platter rests next to the small stack of papers. He watches her from the corner of his eye from his perch on the bed. The book, which she had gotten him the other day, rests on his lap. Open but he isn't quite reading it. Especially when she walks back to the door and hesitates.   
  
She turns to him and bows her head, “I apologize for Saïx's behavior.” She glances toward the door and takes a step closer to Zexion. “I know he's not the... easiest to get along with. He's been very... rough... since his best friend was kill by a human raid along the Eastern Territory.”  
  
“There was a raid? When?”  
  
“Ansem as been planning to bush us back further into the forest. Although Lord Xemnas is no better.” She shakes her head, as if mentally scolding herself for giving such valuable knowledge to a mere hostage. At least, that's what Zexion assumes. “I overheard Saïx speaking to Lord Xemnas. That by keeping you here, Ansem won't attack.”  
  
Zexion's eyes widen and immediately she takes a step back. “Oh, I'm sorry I didn't mean to make it sound like you're the bargaining chip. I mean... It's just that-”  
  
“It's alright,” he says with a wave of his hand. “Besides, I owe you a thank you for even bothering to let me know. I appreciate it.”  
  
Just as a smile lights up her face, the door slings open and Saïx is stomping into the room. He glares at her, “What do you think you're doing?”  
  
“I was just-”  
  
“Never mind. Get out.”  
  
She's making her way to the door while Zexion shuts the book. He sets it to the side and stands, glaring up at the much larger male. “Why don't you just calm down? She's done nothing wrong.”  
  
Saïx glances over his shoulder, noticing that she still hasn't left. “I said, get out Xion.”   
  
At the mention of her name she's scrambling ot get out of the room while cradling the large tray in her arms. Saïx hurries after her, slamming the door the second she's made it past the threshold. Of course, it only makes Zexion's blood boil.   
  
“What's your _problem_!? She was just getting my plate. Something you don't do.”  
  
Saïx turns back to Zexion, a glare settling into his eyes. And yet he says nothing, which only infuriates Zexion more. Out of everything he's done, he still hasn't managed to break that calm facade. He hasn't been able to see the real Saïx. All of this nonsense about bargaining and captives – he just doesn't believe it. Surely if Ansem truly wanted to he would have already stormed through elf territory and the elves would have done the same.   
  
Not that he wishes to return to that palace of boredom and projected fate. It's no better than being cooped up in a small room with an angry elf. A dangerous one at that. In fact, he's been kept away from the war talks and this is the closest he's ever gotten. Zexion knows things are never simple, but negotiations shouldn't always turn sour. There's just something strange about it all.   
  
Which is why aside from picking apart the elf before him, he wants to stay to learn. He teases the thought of being able to help both sides without even having to dirty his own hands. No sane man would give up that opportunity after all.   
  
Zexion scoffs and turns away from Saïx, who still refuses to say a word. Instead, he tries to pry at the elf. “I didn't know elves got jealous.”  
  
Thankfully for him, that does the trick. That one little line seems to unlock the cage to let the beast have a peak of the outside. Saïx storms over to Zexion, who turns to face him. However, Saïx takes it a step forward and shoves Zexion down onto the bed before kneeling over him. He grabs at Zexion's face, keeping their eyes locked.   
  
“Listen well, _human_. You are _mine_. And mine alone to deal with.”  
  
“That doesn't give you the excuse to be cruel. In fact, I believe it does give you the excuse to be nothing better than trash. You can't own a person and on that point, you certainly don’t' own me.”  
  
“I do what I have to do to keep everyone safe. If that-”  
  
Zexion gives a chuckle, a short mocking one at that. “Ah, the justified martyr, how noble. You're pathetic for thinking that gives you the right to push someone away. For once, why don't you take what you want. Do what you want and treat, at least, your fellow people with some respect.”  
  
Saïx stares down at him, surprised by the outburst. But almost pleasantly so. He snorts at the mini rant. “Take what I want? Respect?”  
  
Bringing his hands up to Saïx's shoulders, Zexion begins to try and push him away. He huffs impatiently, “Now you're deaf? Get it through your pointy ears, you're one person and an ignoble one at that. Now get _off_ me - Mmpf.”  
  
Saïx's lips roughly capture his own, pressing down with something that Zexion can't quite put his finger on. For a moment he gets lost in the feeling and his muscles relax ever so slightly. Something inside aches and all Zexion wants to do is cling to this rock of strength laid out before him.   
  
As Saïx pulls away, Zexion is left gasping while his fingers curl into the front of Saïx's shirt. He can only stare up at Saïx while every word he can possibly say runs far away from his tongue. For once, he doesn't wish to say a word. Saïx smirks down at him in respond, “At least you know how to be quiet.”  
  
The remark sparks a change in Saïx's demeanor, one that has Zexion flinching as Saïx hurries to stand. Before Zexion can even push himself up on his elbows, Saïx is at the door. He tries to say something, anything, but nothing will come out. Saïx glances back at him and the look in his eyes has Zexion wanting to go to him. But he doesn't. He stays rooted to the spot as Saïx moves out the door.   
  
Frustrated, Zexion groans and flops back onto the bed. He stares up at the ceiling that looks like roots twining together and muses that it's similar to Saïx's personality. He can never seem to pull apart the two very contrasting parts of Saïx, leaving him annoyed and back at the drawing board.  
  
His fingertips touch at his lips and he sighs at the memory of the kiss. A perfect match to Saïx's own behavior – ironically enough. In fact, he doesn't know _why_ he cares so much. At first it was just to pass the time until Ansem made a deal and had him back in the palace. But now... he's not too sure he wants to even leave.   
  
This place, to which he hasn't even explored, feels more at home than the palace with its empty halls and cold floors. This hollow where the elves lives is... warm to say the least. Even that girl, Xion, was a delight to have every so often.   
  
Zexion groans out loud once again. He rolls over and brings his legs up onto the bed. Curling up with the pillow, he takes a deep breath. It's not worth thinking about at the moment. Or rather he can't muster it. So instead he settles into the comforting darkness of sleep.  
  


**(_)(_)(_)**

  
_Hot.  
  
It's hot and he can't get away from it. His body is tired and heavy – burdened under all of the smoke that billows out around him. Even now that it's stopped, he can still hear the cries and comforting words of the woman he called Mother. Her touch had been gentle as she pushed him away, a bittersweet smile on her face.   
  
A sound, one that's heavily muffled by the roaring of the fire. And then he's on his back, hitting the ground so hard that his eyes shut and then fly back open.  
_

**(_)(_)(_)**

  
Zexion shoots up out of bed, grasping at his shirt as he tries to get his bearings. Sweat beads on his brow and his breath comes out in shallow pants. The nightmare still clings to his skin so heavily that he can swear he can still taste the smoke that he had inhaled.   
  
“What's wrong?”  
  
The sound makes Zexion jump, scooting over away from it. As he blinks and searches for the source of noise in the room strewn with pale light of the dawn. Finally his gaze settles on the shape lying next to him with long blue hair falling over his shoulders. Saïx raises a brow, a silent prompt to hurry and answer.   
  
But Zexion can't process that question. It means recalling what was going on in his mind and something screams at him to never do that. That he doesn't want to go back there ever again. Instead he does the only thing he can. “What do you think you're doing?”  
  
“I _was_ sleeping. This is my room after all.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“Just because I haven't been sleeping in here doesn't make it yours. Now go back to sleep.”  
  
Zexion, however, does the opposite. He waits for Saïx's eyes to close before daring to start scrambling to get out of the large bed. As he gets to the end he realizes just how tight the blankets have curled about his feet in the process. Taking a deep breath, Zexion closes his eyes for a moment. However, the second he does he sees his nightmare right before his eyes. And that fiery destruction is hurling down towards him.  
  
Instinctively he lurches forward only to open his eyes and realize he's not dreaming still. The bed is gone from behind him as he sails toward the hard floor. Zexion does well to twist his body and shield his head, keeping his body from sustaining any long term injuries. But the impact alone has black spotting his vision and his body trembling from the thud.   
  
Saïx is up and out of the bed in one swift motion and the flurry of blankets. He drops to his knees beside Zexion while calling out for help. Zexion can feel Saïx reaching for him as he calls out, telling him to stay awake. But Zexion can't resist the darkness that reaches for him.  
  


**(_)(_)(_)**

  
The small child with a shock of pale blue hair clings to the hem of his mother's beige dress. She cups her hands about his face, wiping at the tears streaming down his cheeks. Whispering sweet nothings, she tries to assure him.   
  
“It'll be alright Zexion. Mommy knows you'll be okay.”  
  
But still he cries, calling out for her and his father that sits behind her. He seems dazed and blood trickles down the side of his face. Mother turns back to him, whispering to him. Father manages to nod just as the sound of wood splintering fills the air.   
  
The fire around them is nothing compared to the groaning of wood breaking in to. Mother looks up, her tear glazed eyes wide and frightened. She smiles at Zexion and tries to tell him it'll be alright, but he can't hear her over the noise of the beam falling. He looks up to see what she had been seeing.  
  
At that moment, Mother shoves him back. He stumbles and falls out of the way of the beam that crashes to the ground. Part of the roof caves in as well, trapping Mother and Father. Smoke billows up from the impact and Zexion can't help but cough. Pain wracks his tiny body as he hits the floor. Even as he manages to push himself up onto his knees he's still coughing so hard his body sways.  
  
Tears create tracks through the smoke stained face as he cries, calling out desperately for his parents. But his cries go unheeded as the fire roars around him – masking all noise whatsoever. To the point where the small child doesn't even hear the window behind him shatter. A figure dressed in brown jumps inside and scoops him up, cradling him. The savior hurries back out through the same window just as another beam falls, taking more of the roof down with it.   
  
The child lies out on the cobblestone walk with the stranger pulling forth a satchel of water. He dabs at Zexion's face and gives him water – assuring him that he'll be alright. Slowly, ever so slowly, Zexion manages to open his eyes after not having released he closed them. The first thing he sees is gold – a bright amber that's more comforting than the flaring red of the fire behind it. The softest shade of cerulean peaks into his view as the young man turns, glancing off into the distance.   
  
The words are lost to Zexion, but he's grateful to the tender pat on the head and the container of water left in his grasp. A second later the savior is sprinting away, becoming a mere blur amongst the other colors. Zexion allows himself to slip back into the darkness with his hands clutching at the satchel.  
  


**(_)(_)(_)**

  
Lashes fluttering against his skin, Zexion slowly opens his eyes. He takes a deep breath as he does. The clarity of the memory weighs on his heart. It's been years since he last had that dream – that nightmare, that memory – and it brings strange feelings up to the surface. He turns his head to the side and is alarmed to see Xion smiling at him.  
  
She pats his arm, “I'm glad you're awake.”  
  
As she stands to leave without another word, Zexion notices he's back in bed. Although he can't quite recall how he got here. The second Xion steps out of the room, Saïx is entering. He slowly walks over to the bed and Zexion wishes he'd just sit down. Standing up like that makes him seem so far away.   
  
“What happened?”  
  
Saïx crosses his arms. “You fell out of bed and fainted. The healer she you'll be fine, that you were lucky.”  
  
“How long was I out?”  
  
“An hour at most.”  
  
Silence surrounds them; both having something they want to say, but neither wanting to bring it up. Zexion hesitates at first before sitting up, settling to lean against the pillows instead. After a moment he glances over at Saïx through the hair falling over his face. “Did you ever venture into human territory before?”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I'm an orphan adopted by Ansem. My parents died in a fire that was started when the fighting got to close to town. Ansem told me it was the elves that started it.”  
  
“They didn't.”  
  
“Then who did?”  
  
“It was an accident.”  
  
Zexion turns to look at him only see Saïx's eyes anywhere but on his. “What happened?”  
  
“I was in training, my friend and I. We broke from our mentor and got cornered. Those _humans_ thought it was funny so my friend set fire to his arrow and shot at them. They dodged and it went straight towards a house off in the distance.”  
  
“My house.”  
  
“The one next to yours actually. The people inside were dead by the time we got there. I heard you and noticed the house wasn't as bad as the other.”  
  
“And you thought to jump in and grab me?”  
  
“I didn't think it'd be that easy.”  
  
Zexion sighs, relaxed now that he has that puzzle piece that has been missing for years. Ansem never did explain how he ended up in the street. He watches as Saïx turns and sits down on the edge of the bed with his back to Zexion.   
  
“The negotiations have finished. If nothing else happens you'll leave within the week.”  
  
Hesitating for a moment, Zexion tries to find the right words – the right words that will let him do what he wants. “Ansem won't stop if I return under the guise of a ceasefire. It would be wiser to keep a captive as a token of war. A warning, even if it's a lie.”  
  
“And you believe he won't come for you?”  
  
Zexion scoffs, “Not if his _blood_ son has anything to say about it. He'd rather I be gone anyway.”  
  
“I see.” Saïx stands up, stepping away from the bed. “Then you'll be thrown into the dungeon.”  
  
He tries not to make a face, but he can't help but find sitting in a dungeon disagreeable. Even so, he steadies his emotions. “Even if I do go back I'll be locked up in the study and surely never let out to do any of my research again.”  
  
“You _want_ to stay?”  
  
“I never said that.”  
  
Saïx turns on his heel and places a hand on the bed. Zexion doesn't resist as Saïx grabs at his chin, holding him steady as their lips meet. As Saïx pulls away, Zexion reaches out for him and grabs onto his shoulders. Following along, Saïx kisses him again. Each one that follows lasts longer than the one before. Saïx edges closer to the bed until he has the blanket pulled back and is sitting across from Zexion. He runs his hands down Zexion's sides until they rest on his waist, urging and guiding him.   
  
He finds himself moving automatically, crawling closer until he's kneeling before Saïx. The latter slips his hands under the long-sleeved white shirt. Zexion shivers at the touch and yet leans into it at the same time. Saïx slides his hands back down and instead grabs at Zexion's behind. The surprise has Zexion lean forward more and force their lips to meet once more.  
  
However, Saïx meets him with a partly open mouth. He licks at Zexion's lips which open readily to let Saïx's tongue slip inside. Together their tongues twirl; rubbing and flicking against one another. Saïx's hands continue to wander until his left is over one of Zexion's nipples. He takes the hardened nub between two fingers and gives it a sharp pinch.   
  
Zexion cries out against his lips, pulling away with a glare settling into his eyes. “W- What was that for?”  
  
“Nothing,” is all he says before kissing him once more. He pulls Zexion into his lap, although the latter twists in the process so that his back is to Saïx. He grunts in the process but doesn't falter. Saïx tilts Zexion's head back and leans down, continuing to kiss him.   
  
As he does, Zexion squirms in his newly acquired seat. Saïx reaches around with his other hand and places it on Zexion's stomach; still his movements. He pulls his mouth away and glares, albeit softer than usual, down at Zexion. “Calm down.”  
  
“I _am_ calm.”  
  
Saïx reaches down until his hand cups between Zexion's thighs. “ _This_ says otherwise.”  
  
Zexion stifles the moan that threatens to slip past his lips, especially as Saïx squeezes at the bulge. Unsure of how to get out of it, Zexion elbows Saïx. “No teasing.”  
  
Suddenly pulling away, Saïx leans back on his hands. “Is that so. Then go ahead.”  
  
Slipping out of his lap, Zexion glances back to glare at Saïx despite his own flushed complexion. Just as he sits back down to face Saïx, he's surprised to see the elf moving towards him once more. Saïx pushes him down against the bed. “I thought you said go ahead.”  
  
“You didn't go fast enough.”  
  
They lock lips once more, tongues meeting far before their lips ever do. Diving one hand beneath Zexion's pants, he lets his finger brush over the hot skin trapped beneath. Zexion trembles beneath him and yet arches up pelvis up into the touch.   
  
Saïx retrieves his hand and sits back, rubbing his fingers together and the liquid that's on them. “Excited?”  
  
Zexion sits upright suddenly, slamming a hand against the bed. “Quit that! I'm not some girl you can tease.”  
  
“Then strip.”  
  
He stills, letting those two simple words settle in. Saïx allows him the brief moment as he rises from the bed, slipping his own clothes off his body while searching for something in his dresser. Zexion tries to not watch and merely take his own clothes off. But he can't stop his eyes from wandering over to the muscle laden chest that begins to walk back over to him.   
  
Stark naked, Zexion tries to curl up in the tightest space possible. Although Zexion's gaze wanders up to the small glass container in Saïx's hand and he seems slightly perplexed at the sight. Saïx sits back down on the bed and opens it. He sets it on the floor after pouring some of the thick, clear liquid into his hand. He gestures with his other hand for Zexion to come forward.  
  
Zexion hesitantly does as Saïx instructs. He places one knee on either side of Saïx's legs. He doesn't dare sit down as Saïx's free hand presses against his lower back. Saïx brings his cupped up to Zexion's ass, pressing his fingers between the cheeks. The chill of the goo has shivers running over Zexion's skin even more than the fingertips prodding at his hole.   
  
Saïx manages to slip one finger inside and begin to wiggle it about, stretching it as well as forcing more of the liquid inside. Once he's sure the inside is slick enough, Saïx forces in another finger and begins to work them in long back and forth motions.   
  
Knees quivering, Zexion clutches at Saïx's shoulders as his breath begins to grow heavy. He brings his lips down to Saïx's ear, “ _Saïx_.”   
  
Saïx lets a chaste chuckle pass as he removes his fingers, leaving Zexion with mixed feelings. The latter goes to move away, to allow Saïx to have control but Saïx stops him. Holding Zexion's hips, he locks eyes with him. “Hold on.” He reaches over the bed – thankfully for how low it sits – and hands the tiny jar to Zexion.   
  
“What do I do with this?”  
  
“It'll make it go easier.”  
  
It clicks and Zexion can't help but blush. Nonetheless he doesn't dare back down. Instead he allows Saïx to poor a modest amount into his hand. Not having to look helps Zexion apply the lubricant to Saïx's hardened member. To which he finds it seems a lot larger than when he had looked directly at it. Once he's done, Zexion returns his hand to Saïx's shoulder; grasping securely onto him.   
  
“Just go slow.”  
  
Therefore, Zexion does just that. Saïx assists in making sure he's ready as Zexion lowers himself down. The tip presses against him and Zexion has to bite at the inside of his lip. He holds in any hint of noise as he begins to take Saïx further in. It's a slow process that has Saïx grunting and Zexion shaking by the time he has Saïx all the way inside.   
  
Saïx growls, “I didn't mean that slow.”  
  
“S- Shut up.”  
  
Zexion takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, rising back up. He's never thought of this before, at least not until he met Saïx. But to have someone burrowing so deep inside. The feeling is indescribable. As Zexion goes to lower himself back down, Saïx meets him as he thrust upward. A moan rips from Zexion's throat from the surprise and he doubles over against Saïx; head resting on his shoulder.    
  
Saïx, expecting nothing more, clutches at Zexion as he suddenly moves forward. He changes their position before Zexion even knows what's happening. All he knows is he's on his back the next instant with Saïx kneeling between his legs. He doesn't get a chance to say a thing as Saïx begins to thrust back into him.   
  
The much needed surprise has Saïx plunging easily inside of him before swiftly pulling back out. Zexion clutches at the sheets, unable to think of much else as the sensations override any other thoughts. All he can concentrate on is how hot his body is and if Saïx could just go faster – that the wait is agonizing.   
  
Even still, he lets his moans mix with Saïx's grunts and pants. Zexion greedily squirms and arches himself, wanting more each time. He manages to lock eyes with Saïx and reach one arm out for him. Saïx surges forward, leaning over him to prop up with one hand. His other brushes the Zexion's sweat-slicked tresses away from his face, allowing him to see both eyes.   
  
“S... Saïx.” he whispers to the elf as he wraps one arm over those strong shoulders.   
  
In turn, Saïx whispers Zexion's name into his ear before locking their lips together. Saïx slips his free hand down to tease Zexion's own member. He curls his fingers around it and tries to time each slide of his hand against his own thrusts. The mere sensations have Zexion writhing beneath him and curling his fingers into Saïx's hair. Zexion tugs at the strands, demanding for more.   
  
Zexion wildly bucks into Saïx's hand, not in tune with any of the rhythm established so far. Saïx continues to pump him until he feels Zexion tightening around his own. He presses his fingers tightly around the base even as he releases into Zexion.   
  
Their lips are forced apart as Zexion cums, coating their stomachs in the sticky substance while he lets out a silent moan. One that has his eyes closed and his lips parted ever-so-slightly. One that has Saïx kissing him again atop it all.   
  
As their kiss finally ends, Saïx pushes himself up. Seemingly exhausted, Saïx finally pulls out and rolls over to lay beside Zexion. Their breathing is all that can be heard for quite a while. Or at least until Saïx catches his breath. “Don't tell me you're done already?”  
  
Zexion says nothing in return, he simply glares at Saïx. It's a silent challenge. One that Saïx readily takes as he rolls over back on top of Zexion and begins peppering kisses up the base of his neck. War squabbles or not, tonight is theirs.


End file.
